Gaining Experience
by Divine Sally Bowles
Summary: Oneshot. Jo needs experience in lovering, as Amy calls it, to write a story... and Laurie just might want to be the one to give it to her!


**A/N- Hello, and welcome to my first _Little Women _fic! Nothing more than a simple, Jo/Laurie oneshot. I don't really consider this either canon or noncanon-- it was just a brief musing about how Jo may have gotten the experience to write about the "lovering" in Jo's story that Amy mentions liking in the chapter "Secrets."**

**Please review! I'd appreciate it.**

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Gaining Experience

"Christopher Columbus!" Jo March burst out impetuously, and not for the first time that day, as she gave the paper before her an indignant look. "I shall never get it right!" Seated on the sofa, she angrily crumpled the ink-blotted page and cast it half-heartedly into the growing pile on the lefthand corner of the trunk before her.

Most of the Marches were out for the day, despite the cold October weather, and Laurie had left yet another lesson in order to spend the day with Jo. With an amused expression, he looked up from the sheet music he'd been studying—a gift from his grandfather, to give to Beth. He tried to hide his smile. "What is it this time?"

"The passion. The romance!" Jo replied gloomily, shaking her head so that one wayward chestnut curl fell back from her shoulder. "How am I ever supposed to write it, when I've no experience of my own?"

"Those Brontës did it, didn't they?" Laurie suggested, innocently, recalling Jo reading _Jane Eyre_ some days before.

Jo gave an indignant, and rather unladylike, snort. "Nelly, I _am _Heathcliff!" She exclaimed, in an imitation of _Wuthering Heights_' passionate, tempestuous Cathy, clutching her breast in an exaggerated manner, which caused Laurie to lose his composure and dissolve into gales of laughter. Only Jo could make him laugh this way.

"Teddy!" Jo chided, when he was still laughing moments later. "Focus!"

"Sorry," Laurie gasped out, wiping at his eyes. Then, more composed, "My apologies, my dearest Miss Jo." Though still seated, he swept her a mocking bow. "What exactly is it that's giving you trouble, again?"

"Viola and Angelo," Jo told him, as if that explained all. Her characters were as real to her as her family was, and normally she enjoyed telling her family of their exploits, but this story was to be kept a secret. She was considering submitting it to the _Spread Eagle_ for publication, but no one was to know of that yet—not even her Teddy. "They're _supposed_ to kiss passionately in the rain, something I can't quite describe without—well, without having done it."

She was blushing furiously, for reasons she could not—or did not want to—discern.

"Surely that great imagination of yours can think of _something_," Laurie teased lightly.

"It is harder," Jo told him, with a slight glare, "than it looks."

"Well, if all you need is the experience to write about it, then how do you propose going about getting it?"

"I don't know! That's precisely why this story is going to be such rubbish," Jo groaned.

Laurie slowly set the sheet music aside and rose from his chair. He came to sit before Jo on the trunk, slowly drawing her to him by putting one hand on her back, brushing her hair back from her face.

He interrupted Jo's remark of, "Teddy, what are you—" by placing a quick, but at the same time passionate, kiss upon her (rather surprised) lips.

They broke from the kiss flushed, surprised, and embarrassed.

"Do you think you can write it now?" Laurie asked, breathlessly.

Jo quickly smoothed the wrinkles from her dress and nodded, without looking at him. "Yes," she told him, finally, "I believe that I can."

Weeks later, when Jo read _The Rival Painters_ to her delighted family, no one seemed to realize the striking resemblance Angelo had to a certain neighbor of theirs—the Italian heritage; the dark curls; or, though none of them would have known anyway, the precise way his lips were soft and sweet as they touched Viola's in their first kiss.

Nor did anyone, neither Mr. Brooke nor Mr. Laurence, ever find the faded, well-worn copy of the_ Spread Eagle_ that Laurie tucked, with care, in his dresser, that stayed within for years to come.

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**As this is my first _Little Women_ fic, and I may hope to write more, I would really appreciate reviews! Thank you to all!**

**- Sally.**


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